Under the Sheets

They’re making the bed with me still in it,


as they draw and quarter me in sheets.

I step outside myself and see

the smothering pillow, mothering willow

spread me out and drown me in

white, like Lazarus stepping from his tomb,

but there is no resurrection here,

just a face that saw the skyward climb

and faltered, just before the final rise.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well–they’re a skilled bunch of poets, looking to form a community and support one another.  Enjoy!